


Neurosis

by eyemeohmy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Bad end, Character Death, Gen, MTMTE 20 spoilers, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pharma is taken prisoner aboard the Lost Light. The loss of freedom brings about the realization of madness and defeat. However, recognizing how far he has truly fallen is not Pharma’s only problem. The devil is miserable, and misery loves company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neurosis

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, how the mighty have fallen. But this time you won't be getting back up.

There was a time where Pharma appreciated the silence. A time where he valued and felt comfortable with his own thoughts. Listening only to that little voice in his head; it was wise, it was cunning, it was the best of company. It was, greatest of all, _his_ voice. He could trust and believe in it.

That time came and went, like so much of Pharma’s life. Though initially he had… straightened himself out, so to speak, enough to function, he could no longer bear the silence. Not for too long. That little voice in his head was different now - it spoke of queer, strange things; its tone was crooked and disconcerting. It praised sometimes, but many times it also berated - Pharma argued with that tiny voice. You failed you failed no I didn’t you failed you failed to protect Delphi you failed to protect your patients you failed you failed no I didn’t! you failed and you fell and you lost everything and now look at you you’re a joke you’re a crazy joke and that voice would laugh and it was a hollow sound that echoed in his head, clawing into the far reaches of his mind, and Pharma often wondered if he was the sane one, or if this voice was the sane one, or if they were both insane, both voices combating in his head, one encouraging and proud, one condemning and bitter—

Pharma invented, slowly opening his optics. He just now realized he was digging his fingers into his helm until they shook from the pressure and metal creaked beneath the weight. There was no pain, however; at least he didn’t register any. His hands slowly lowered, and all at once he was torn from his argument with himself or that thing and remembered where he was.

Ship. Brig. Autobot brig. His own people had caged and punished him. Pharma couldn’t decide if he was more offended than scared. He was _still_ an Autobot - he never stopped being an Autobot. Even when he watched his patients and colleagues drop one by one due to a plague he had engineered and intentionally released. He was never disloyal - feeding Tarn’s addiction, that wasn’t treachery, that wasn’t consorting with the enemy, he was simply doing what was best - what was _logical_ \- to keep his clinic and patients safe and in the end you failed and everything you did every precaution you took every person you killed and robbed so you and the clinic could save everyone came crashing down in less than a day because you weren’t strong enough—

“ _Hush_ ,” Pharma growled. Pain ebbed from his temples along the sides of his helm. He looked up, peering through thick steel bars, down a yawning, empty corridor. And as insane as he was, he was still smart - and he knew something was amiss.

Something wasn’t right. Though Pharma was the only captive on board (for now), he shouldn’t be alone. There should… There should be a guard here.

There was always a guard here. They came and went in intervals by the hour, but it’d been over an hour now, and there was no guard. Where was the guard? It would be lunch soon. Despite the uncomfortable living arrangements and less than stellar treatment, Pharma was still fed properly. Three times a day, just like everyone else. The same amount, just like everyone else. But - no. No, no.

Pharma checked his chronometer. Lunch was five minutes ago - where was the guard? Still getting his food?

"Ridiculous," Pharma growled. The guard should have been back by now. Pharma’s tank churned with hunger. He stood, moving to the bars, taking two in each hand. He stuck out his face and examined the empty brig. "The service here is despicable," he scowled. "I know there is an energon dispenser outside the door." Pharma’s annoyed gaze turned to the camera staring down at his cell, its one red eye ever vigil and recording. "Is this how you treat _all_ your guests, Rodimus?”

If anything, the entire going-crazy-thing did give him more of a sense of humor. Sure, it was bitter and sometimes incoherent, but at least he wasn’t so high strung now. He laughed more, and he actually told jokes, and he always laughed at his own jokes and he never cared about the strange or uncomfortable looks he got from his lesser, inferior colleagues while under Tyrest’s management. Pharma was also relieved he was no longer working with those idiotic dolts - they were as stupid and plain as their dull sense of humor and taste.

Pharma scowled again and pushed himself back from the bars. Moved to take a seat on his slab. He laid down and dimmed his optics and the silence returned. And it was an opportunity that voice always took and it was going to remind him of all his failures again, of how far he’d really fallen, tell his host _it_ was the rational voice, it was the sane one, it was the voice that still held some compassion and regret and horror for what he had done—

Pharma’s optics widened. Tense wings hiked. The loud sound above his head was unmistakable - an explosion. Another was soon to follow, and then there was a flood of footfalls and muffled screaming and shouting. Something was… wrong. Pharma sat up; his wings twitched at a bomb going off much too close for comfort.

What was going on? Pharma staring up at the ceiling. He stared and he stared and he listened as the… fighting—yes, fighting, he now realized—continued. Were Decepticons attacking? They had to be on board. Something went _thud_ \- Pharma recognized that sound. The sound of a body dropping dead. He imagined what it must look like based on the blast he heard just seconds prior - did it take out their head? Their spark? They must be bleeding everywhere. Bleeding bleeding bleeding.

Pharma slowly pushed himself to his feet. It sounded as if the fight was moving away. He couldn’t decide if this was—

The medic gasped; the _Lost Light_ suddenly rocked violently aside, knocking him on his ass. He grimaced as the ship groaned before stabilizing. A siren went off, loud and blaring. Pharma turned down his audiols. Dread suddenly filled his spark. The ship had been hit - were they going down? Were they going to abandon ship? Were they going to come for him? Were they going to abandon him?

No, no. They wouldn’t do that. They were Autobots. They were his people. They would never abandon their own.

The blast blew apart the door to the brig, and Pharma grimaced as the ceiling mounted sirens suddenly went off. A piercing shrieking howl as they filled the room with flashing red light. Pharma dug his fingers into his audiols; he was afraid to switch them off, afraid he might miss something, but then another blast took out the first siren. Then the second, then the third, and finally, the fourth.

The entire brig went pitch black; Pharma’s optics widened, two beams of bright blue cutting through the darkness.  
The light from the corridor barely reached his end of the jail. It painted the debris littering the floor in orange and red. The sirens above ground still screamed as the commotion continued, but it was… quiet. Very, very quiet down here.

Pharma looked up just in time for a massive form to step in the middle of the brig’s entrance. It was black, its figure contoured by the outside light; very tall, very wide, and Pharma need not see the two narrow red optics staring at him to know he was in trouble.

An old fear returned to Pharma’s spark. All too familiar, but one he hadn’t felt in a long time. He needn’t try remembering, because the figure was moving into the brig now. Closer and closer to his cell, and now Pharma could feel, practically taste that overpowering EM field reaching out for—

Oh, God.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

 _Pharma remembered_.

"Here I came to free my imprisoned brethren and I find you. What a delightful surprise.”

"No," Pharma whispered. His voice came out dry. His spark thrashed in its chamber, every program in his chassis on high alert. His armor clamped against his frame and started shaking, wings falling into a slight trembling droop.

Pharma tried to breathe, but the air was poisonous. “No. No no no no _no_ …”

Pharma quickly slapped his hands over his audiols, dropped his head, closed his optics tight. No no no. This was a nightmare. This wasn’t real; none of this was real. No, it was real it was very real this is all very real and no matter how much you wish for it to go away it will not go away and you know it—

"S-Shut up. Please, _shut up_.” Nonetheless, he lowered his hands.

"What’s the matter, Pharma?"

He should have known better than to open his eyes and look up.

Tarn tilted his helm, optics an inquisitive, playful glow. “Something caught your tongue?” He loomed before the cell, as frightening and powerful as Pharma last remembered. Smoke billowed from his back-mounted gun turrets. “I find that hard to believe. You’ve always had a tendency to carelessly and arrogantly run your mouth off at the most inappropriate of times.”

Pharma invented, shoulders rising. “Why,” he whispered, “ _why_?”

"I have some business here," Tarn chuckled. "It would seem you took care of one thing on my agenda. I would thank you, but to rob me of the pleasure of watching Ambulon fall apart, begging for penance… I guess that makes me a little upset, and not entirely grateful." He gave a mock disappointed sigh.

Pharma suddenly thought of Ambulon. Remembered how his chainsaw felt cutting through that thick gestalt body. Remembered the feel of energon splattered on his face and that look of pure terror on both Ambulon and Ratchet’s faces. The pleasure he felt taking that life - a voice, a tiny voice, asked him if it felt the same as the pleasure Tarn’s field was emitting right now?

You’re a lot alike. More than you think.

"No," Pharma breathed, looking at his shaking hands, " _no_!” Shut up shut up _shut up_! You don’t know _anything_! You didn’t have to go through what he went through! You didn’t have to suffer the way he suffered! You know nothing of his pain!

Pharma snapped his head up, optics ablaze, his expression a contorted mess of fury and fear. “How _dare_ you! _How dare you_!”

Tarn remained quietly staring.

"How dare you come to me! Not when everything— when everything—"

"Is it?" Tarn asked. His optics creased. "Is it _really_ , Pharma?”

How did Tarn know what he was thinking? And why was he right? Everything had been going so well. Pharma had his hands back, his _life_ back. He had proven to Ratchet he was the better doctor, the most skilled medic in all the known universe. He stopped being afraid, he stopped fighting, he finally accepted it and he accepted it with grace, his insanity, and it brought him back to the light and he was so happy, so very happy, even in madness, even if it meant he had become the very monster he hated—

So you admit you’re a monster now.

No. No, he wasn’t a monster. He was— The circumstances, he was shaped, he was molded, he wasn’t— He wasn’t— “Why did you have to come back!?” Pharma finally choked out a sob. His shaking had increased to the point his plating was visibly and loudly rattling. “Why did you have to come back!?” he howled, digging his fingers into the sides of his helm. Everything had been going great, everything had turned up smelling like roses, because he, too, grew from the mud and it’s— “—not fair! _It’s not fair_!”

Tarn continued remaining silent.

Pharma flew to the bars, squeezing them tightly. He glared defiantly into Tarn’s optics, insanity written clearly in the rings around his optics and the wrinkles along the edges of his mouth. “You ruined _everything_! You took my clinic from me! My patients, my people! You took _everything_ from me!” Cramps formed in his wrists as he clenched the bars much too tight. Tarn stared down at him lazily, unaffected by his screaming accusations.

"I had everything, and you took it all away! I managed to get it back - almost everything - no, _everything_! I got everything back! I survived, I succeeded, I fought! Despite what you did to me, I survived!” Pharma’s left optic started to twitch as he slowly, very slowly, started to slump. “I got everything back everything I lost everything I _thought_ I lost things I thought you stole from me Ratchet stole from me but I got them back I reclaimed them I got my hands back I got everything back and paid in interest and I proved I was right _I showed them all I was the best_ I was the best I am the best no matter what it or I may say and yet and yet and yet here I am here I am in a brig in an _Autobot prison_ I am not I am not a failure why are you here _why are you here_ why when everything when I thought everything was when I thought everything could maybe—”

"You are, as always, an arrogant _coward_.”

Pharma’s wide optics shot up, meeting Tarn’s relaxed gaze.

"I never took that from you," Tarn added. "You have always been, and always shall be, an arrogant coward."

Pharma’s optics widened until they hurt and then his teeth were gnashing and he was screaming, “I am not a—”

Then Tarn’s face was suddenly right in his, giant hands taking the bars, squeezing until they groaned, and Pharma yelped as he scampered back, hands raised in defense.

Tarn smiled beneath his mask. “Always a coward,” he hummed, and slowly stood upright again.

Pharma’s knees gave out, and he fell to the ground in a heap of misery and defeat. The will to fight drained from him like the blood of the fallen Autobot on the floor above. He… couldn’t believe it. Tarn wasn’t right. He wasn’t. He ran his fingers down his face, he couldn’t believe it, no, Tarn was _wrong_ , he wasn’t a coward, he wasn’t. Arrogant, maybe maybe, yes, but certainly no coward.

"You’re a failure," Tarn said.

Only, Pharma realized, it wasn’t Tarn.

It was that voice in his head - it was the last shred of sanity he had. And when it went quiet, Pharma knew he had finally lost everything.  
"Please…"

Tarn tilted his helm.

Pharma curled forward, arms wrapped over his head. “P-Please,” he whispered against the cold ground. “Please, leave me alone. Please please please just _go away_.” Silent sobs raked through his frame. He closed his optics, curling further into himself. “ _Please please please stop_.”

Tarn watched the medic a moment. Pharma heard something break then the growl of the cell bars parting. He remained in the fetal position, breathing heavily, even as that EM field suddenly swallowed him whole, and he knew Tarn was standing in front of him, right in front of him, mere inches away.

"Oh, Pharma," Tarn sighed, "I honestly thought you’d fare better if you survived. Before, I could admire your resilience. Your loyalty was as beautiful as your sharp mind. Even behind all the layers of bravado and fear, I could see you were smart. And I wondered how much pressure it would take before I wore that blade down to something blunt and useless." His red optics softened with pity and even a little disgust. "In the end, you did most of the work for me."

Pharma choked on a strangled, tired, frightened noise. “Please,” he croaked, “ _please_ …”

"I have business to attend to, and I am afraid I must leave. It was an interesting reunion. And I will make this swift. Not only because I am pressed for time, but also because you are an old friend."

Tarn raised his hand, and Pharma felt the heat of the gun’s barrel and steel pressed against the top of his helm.

"You’ve one second. Now or never. Prove me wrong."

Pharma immediately lifted his head and looked from the gun in his face to Tarn’s fierce glower.

Tarn chuckled. “You chose wisely.”

The little voice wanted to tell Pharma he had been brave to at least look death in the eye, but the pull of a trigger and one blast of fire silenced it and the rest of Pharma.

For good, this time.


End file.
